


Succubus Story

by UnbiddenRhythm



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Banter, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual Harrassment, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23903002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnbiddenRhythm/pseuds/UnbiddenRhythm
Summary: "Usually I'd do it myself, but I'm already running late to the planners meeting." His eyes met hers. "Would you be able to deliver this to the Weapons Division?"She blanched. Reeve instantly regretted it."You know, I can deliver this later—""No sir. Of course I can take care of it." She snatched the folder out of his grasp and placed it atop her stack. "How bad could Scarlet be?"
Relationships: Reeve Tuesti & Scarlet (Compilation of FFVII), Reeve Tuesti/Reeve Tuesti's Assistant
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	Succubus Story

**Author's Note:**

> I weighed having a stronger rating - please give me feedback if you think so, but I think it's still mild enough here.

"These are the plans for the new compound in Sector 4, they need to go to Public Safety," Reeve handed her a thick folder. Noting her blank expression, he rushed to say, “But I already checked—Heidegger is meeting with Tseng right now, so you shouldn’t have to worry about seeing him.”

He took a small thrill seeing her face light up. "That was considerate of you,” she said, taking the file from his him. “I’m running out of excuses every time he asks me to dinner. Last time I said ‘it would make all the other assistants too jealous and I just couldn’t do that to them.’” He chuckled.

“Oh, I’m aware. I never hear the end about how you snubbed him for that dance at the company party.” She groaned.

“Anyway,” she said, “thank you for your thoughtfulness. What else _I_ can help _you_ with?"

Reeve hesitated, then pulled out a black folder. "Usually I'd do it myself, but I'm already running late to the planners meeting." His eyes met hers. "Would you be able to deliver this to the Weapons Division?"

She blanched. Reeve instantly regretted it.

"You know, I can deliver this later—"

"No, Director. _Of course_ I can take care of it." She snatched the folder out of his grasp and placed it atop her stack. "Like you said, you're going to be late. Better to be late to your meeting rather than handing something into Scarlet."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not afraid of her," she scoffed, brushing auburn bangs from her face. "And I'll already be making drop-offs around the building; it's no problem for me to add one more. Now," she play-shooed him away, "hurry, sir!"

"Right, right," he walked with her toward the door. "Thank you again, for everything. I owe you for this."

She waved him off. "Hardly, Director. I'm just dropping off a memo." She gave him a reassuring smile. "How bad could it be?"

* * *

She chanted those words descending in the elevator to Scarlet's basement lab. Sure, she'd heard absolute horror stories of scientists being maimed or killed while under Scarlet's employ. And sure, many of those stories were due not to equipment malfunctions or lab failures, but Scarlet's brutal temper. Yet, the Director wouldn't actually hurt staff not under her division… _Right?_

This was not productive thinking. She was too good an assistant to let fear keep her from duty. Her position was coveted as it were, working directly with the only decent (and sane) member of the entire Shin-Ra Executive Board—not that any of the lowest employees would admit that too freely outside their tightest circles. And she couldn't have Reeve thinking she wasn't up to simple tasks. He was too stressed; she refused to burden him further with her own inadequacies. He didn't deserve any of the abuse he managed daily in his role. He did so much for this city…

If he could survive Scarlet in the board room, she could survive delivering a file.

She arrived, her approach tentative. A guard stood by the door.

"I have a memo from the Urban Planning Administration for the Director."

She hoped the guard would simply _take_ the file from her and she'd be done. But no—he opened the door for her, then wordlessly motioned her inside.

Gulping, she stepped forward. Tanks of mako connected to computers reading energy outputs, illuminating the room. There were two scientists, seemingly absorbed in their work studying materia inside the tanks. The Director sat in a plump red leather chair, feet reclined on...on...

It took all her willpower not to gasp aloud. A guard knelt on all fours on the floor—a literal foot soldier turned foot stool. Though she couldn't see his face, by the slump of his shoulders and neck she could sense his utter debasement.

"What do you want?" A sharp, coldly beautiful voice barked.

"Pardon me, Madam Director.” She hated how shaky her voice sounded. “I have a memo from Director Tuesti."

" _Reeve_ sent you?" The woman's head snapped her way, and looked her up and down. "You're his… _personal_ assistant?"

 _Technically, the Division's_ _…_ She thought before nodding. Scarlet popped up at this revelation and began circling around her, eyes predatory. Then without warning, the Director grabbed her chin, and gave a slight squeeze, raking manicured nails across her cheek. "Hmmm. I can see why he'd like having you around." Scarlet's thumb brushed across her lips, sending goosebumps up her arms. "Plump lips."

Her face burned at the vulgar implication. Scarlet studied her, no doubt analyzing every emotion betrayed in her expression.

 _Gray rock,_ she mentally chanted a mantra she'd learned to help survive childhood, _gray rock_. _Give Scarlet nothing to work with_. She willed her face to display no emotion. A blank slate.

Scarlet circled again, this time stopping behind her, and then—

_SLAP!_

The sound registered before the pain, but both overwhelmed her and she yelped, unbidden.

 _"_ Kya ha _ha!_ " Scarlet's laugh was cruel. "And a nice ass." The Director slapped hard again. "I have to say, I'm shocked he has it in him." Scarlet sniffed dismissively.

…She didn't dare correct Scarlet's assumption.

Scarlet swept back across the room to her throne, roughly raising her legs on the soldier-footstool once more. Once seated, the Director then snapped her fingers and stretched out her hand.

 _Keep a safe distance_ _…_ she thought to herself as she walked gingerly forward, bottom smarting. In a quick motion, she handed the black folder to the other woman, not daring to inch closer. Scarlet shredded the top open with a sharp fingernail and peered very briefly over the contents. Without looking back, the Director returned the folder to her.

"File it away." Red tipped fingers lazily gestured to the cabinets stacked along the wall.

Following the order, she crossed promptly to the shelf where Scarlet tossed aside the rest of Reeve's memos. It pained her to see his labor so callously dismissed. As she placed the black folder carefully on the haphazard stack, she thought about number of times she'd come in early to the office, only to find he'd never left.

She felt enraged at Scarlet.

"Come here."

She did as told, snuffing any sign of her anger. Walking over to the chair she now could see the face of the soldier, abased on the floor. She understood now. The stories weren't just stories— they were sirens. Surviving an encounter with Scarlet meant compliance without complaint.

Scarlet motioned impatiently for her to draw closer, until she was close enough to brush against the arm of the chair. The Director pointed at the tank.

"Have you ever seen materia enhancement?"

"No, ma'am."

Scarlet made a sighing, moaning noise. She felt uncomfortable.

"It's quite a treat to watch. Go on—take a look."

She turned to study the materia. They glowed as they floated in the tank, buoyed by mako. Scarlet rose and crossed behind her. She braced for another spanking, but instead Scarlet placed an arm around her and leaned in close.

"What do you see?" Scarlet cooed.

"I see…" she stammered for something to say. "It looks like the materia is somehow absorbing the mako." She paused. "It's beautiful."

"Ahhhh," the Director seemed pleased, almost thoughtful. "Yes, it _is_ beautiful, isn't it? I appreciate people who appreciate beauty." Scarlet leaned in closer, lips nearly touching her ear. "What else?"

 _Keep it together_ , she chided herself, feeling her insides ice over. Scarlet seemed to be enjoying _her_ discomfort.

"I imagine that does something to change the chemical composition of the materia?" she hoped that sounded intelligent.

"That's true." Scarlet brushed closer against her. "What do you think that means?"

"It's...it makes it more powerful."

Scarlet made a satisfied noise. " _Yes_. And we are more powerful for it." Then, moving in front of her, Scarlet leaned close to her face. "You like watching this, don't you?" The Director's claw-like nails traced along her clavicle. Her throat felt too exposed, bared to Scarlet as it were.

 _This is a game to her_ , she thought. _She's toying with me._

"Yes."

"Then I propose this: how about you forget Reeve? Come work for me. Be _my_ assistant, and do this all all the time. What do you say?"

Scarlet's painted lips stretched a devilish manner, and she thought of a serpent's mouth. She wanted _nothing_ to do with Scarlet or this cursed offer. _Say something!_ she willed herself. But what could she possibly say? As her panic rose the silence settled in the room, oppressive.

Scarlet's eyes narrowed and she lifted a manicured hand, jeweled with a mako ring. Delicate red-tipped fingers twisted the ring to face palm-up. There was a quick violent motion–

_THWACK—_

The world flashed white. She heard thunderclap and pain exploded through her skull. Unprepared for the assault, her knees buckled and she staggered. She might have cried out. She didn't know. The only certainty now was Scarlet struck her face.

"I _asked_ you a question," the Director gritted through her teeth. "And I only ask once." Scarlet crossed back to sit down, legs raised on the servant once more. "If you feel so inclined to cling to that coward of a man, by all means." Scarlet shooed her. "Dismissed."

Still dazed and disoriented, she said nothing further as she turned. Quickly as her legs would move, she scrambled out of the room. She didn't let up her pace until secure in the elevator, doors shut behind her.

Then she broke. Tears, hot and fast, fell down her cheeks. She clutched her face, where her had skin split from the strike of Scarlet's ring. _It feels like it's on fire!_ She looked at her hand and saw blood.

Anger bubbled deep in the pit of her gut, and she thought without remorse, _Evil witch._

She glimpsed her reflection in the window. She spied the purpling bruise, the scarlet streaking down her cheek, her eyes red-rimmed with tears. _What a mess_. She felt glad to be alone, in the confines of the elevator. She'd need to get to her desk as soon as possible. She'd grab her purse with her first aid and make-up kit and then retreat to the bathroom before anyone was the wiser…

She just needed to make it up the elevator undisturbed.

Luck looked fondly on her, and the elevator ascended without stopping until the 60th floor. As it halted, she kept her back facing the door, intently staring out the window. Hopefully, she'd be able to avoid making direct eye contact with whomever was now getting on, and then she could just scoot off at the 63rd floor and clean herself up…

"Looks like we both finished at the same time."

 _Oh no_. She could've handled anyone else, but Reeve was the last person she wanted see.

"So, how'd your deliveries go?"

 _Gray rock_ _…_ she defaulted to thinking. She could have gotten away with being awkward or rude and unresponsive to perhaps anyone else. But not Reeve, who always sought her opinion, always worked so hard to make her _feel heard._

"Just fine," she said quickly, trying to turn her face away. But it was too late—he crossed to her and saw what she desperately wanted to conceal.

 _"_ What _happened?!"_

She pursed her lips to quell their quivering, and turned her face away. "It's nothing, sir."

"It's _not nothing_ ," he sounded angry. She knew, logically, it wasn't directed at her it, but she shied from it anyway with crossed arms, shaking her head and refusing to speak further.

He took a deep breath, then fished into his pockets, pulling out a flowered handkerchief. "Here," he offered. "It's clean, I promise."

"But Director! Your mother—”

"Sends me 10 a year. I have plenty. I insist." His eyes were so pleading that she relented, taking the kerchief from him and instantly regretting how her bloodied hand stained the brilliant blue and fuchsia pattern. She wiped her hand then dabbed her face clean, wincing from the wound's tenderness.

"I'll clean this before I give it back to you," she promised, folding up the cloth as neat as she could before pocketing it.

"Don't worry about it."

Reeve said nothing else, still fuming as he stared out the window.

The pall of tension weighed on them the final three floors up. Yet as soon as the elevator dinged open, he stepped out to peer both ways. "It's clear," he said, and then gingerly took her by the hand to go to the office. His hand felt warm around hers; she'd never held it before. But she found herself too distracted by the throbbing in her face to note whether it was as lovely as she'd imagined or not.

…She felt safe, though. That was something.

In the office, he pulled her toward his desk and ushered her to sit in his chair. Then, he rifled through drawers until he produced an orb of materia. Kneeling next to her, he uttered a spell.

She felt disoriented from the pain and her embarrassment at her vulnerable state. Yet he didn't seem to notice. Kitting his brow, threads of magic weaved themselves between the tips of his fingers and he raised his palm to caress her cheek. The throbbing wound cooled under his touch, her skin stitching itself together by his command. Even after the materia's emerald glow faded, his palm remained cupping her face. Without thinking, she relaxed into him, relishing the warmth of his hand. She felt so...worn.

They stayed that way for several moments, his thumb stroking her face, warmth and moisture registering against her skin. She realized belatedly more tears fell. Reeve said nothing, sweeping his thumb softly against her cheekbone to wipe away the wetness. He stopped at the edge of her cheek, as though not daring to stray across her lips as Scarlet's trespass. Just thinking about the other woman sent a rush of fury through her, and more tears stung her eyes.

She felt mortified by her discomposure and confusion.

"I apologize, sir."

He pulled from his pocket another kerchief, with heather plant and bluebells. She took it gratefully. "You have _nothing_ to apologize for. I should never have asked you to go—"

"It's not your fault, please don't think that."

He looked pained. "Scarlet _assaulted_ you."

She didn't know what to say, so she looked down at the ground.

"It _is_ my fault," he continued. "Scarlet might bully me, but I'm an executive. She can't actually hurt me, unless she wants to answer to the President. At worst, it might be name calling or saying I'm a coward. Which," Reeve gave her a miserable look, "I _am_."

"You're not— "

"I sent you into the devil's nest and you paid for it." He sighed. "I should have known better."

Not knowing what else to say, how else to object, she placed her hand upon his. He looked surprised. Then he twisted his palm up, and they held hands properly.

"…Will you tell me what happened?" He sounded so gentle. How did such a man rise through the ranks to become an _executive_?

She relented. She told him about her horror at the scene, seeing the way Scarlet treated her employees. Treated _her_. "It was terrifying."

"I can imagine."

She shook her head. "I don't think you can, Director. " She paused, weighing her next statement. "Scarlet spanked me.

He looked aghast. " _What!?"_

"A couple of times, actually." She averted her eyes, not able to take his guilt-etched face. She decided to not mention the comments Scarlet made about _them_. She wasn't sure she could handle their mutual mortification.

After a heavy silence, he asked. "What else?"

"Asked me to come work for her. I was too shocked to say anything—that was my mistake. Slapped me with a ring palm-side up."

He grimaced. "I never imagined she would stoop so low." He raised one hand to comb through his hair, agitated. "I'm going to take this up with her, I promise!"

"Please don't sir," she jerked upward, breaking their contact. "That will only make things worse. She might not be able to retaliate against you, but she'll certainly be able to find me."

He studied her for a moment, unspeaking. She wondered what he was thinking. Did he trust her assessment? After a moment, he spoke. "All right. I won't confront her directly," he relented. "But don't think I'm not going to try to do something about this." He shook his head. "What I wouldn't give for a functioning HR department…"

"You and me both, Director." She smiled weakly at him. "And if I might suggest, if you're going to do anything, sir: stop sending memos. Scarlet doesn't care, and barely reads them. Just save yourself the time and work." She frowned. "You deserve better than to waste your time laboring over something that will be ignored."

He smiled. "I appreciate the feedback. I'll take it under immediate advisement." He looked rueful again. "I'm sorry you had to suffer for my mistake."

"Like I said sir, you've done nothing wrong," she reassured him.

"I can only imagine the number of other people she's done this too." She shrugged her shoulders.

"That's why the staff call them 'Scarlet Survival Stories.'"

"What's this now?"

She reddened. She'd forgotten he wouldn’t be as familiar with the employee gossip-mill as she, tightly controlled as it were. "Oh, um. The staff, we have our own nicknames and stories any time someone has," she tried to think of delicate phrasing, "an unpleasant encounter with one of the directors."

"Oh? What kind of nicknames?"

"I-I don't know," she regretted mentioning anything.

"Oh, come on," he smiled wide now, his eyes eager, and she felt too enamored to want to disappoint him.

"Okay. So...low-hanging fruit—Hojo is 'the Mad Scientist.' A little obvious, I know. Palmer is just 'Lard.'" She tried to not to break her focus as he laughed. "Heidegger is 'the Impotent'. Sometimes, 'Beard'. Sometimes, 'the Impotent Beard'." She chuckled along with him. "I admit, I lose track of the ones that go around, especially among the guards."

"And what's Scarlet?" he asked, fighting through his amusement.

She grinned slyly. "'The Succubus'." She took great delight in the way he tried to hide his laughter behind his fist.

"'The _Succubus'."_

 _"_ That's right," she was sure she looked smug now. "And now I have my own 'Succubus story' to share after this, which makes me look intimidating to the other assistants, so not all is lost," she hoped her poor attempt at joking would help ease his conscience.

"I see." His face seemed relaxed. "Well, I like hearing that it wasn't all in vain." She loved looking at his smile, however slight. It seemed like the only time he felt at ease. And it happened so rarely.

"I do want to know," he leaned toward her, mischievous look on his face. She felt heat pool in her stomach. She still sat in _his_ Executive chair, and he still knelt in front of her, so close. Had she ever been this close to him before?

"What are _my_ nicknames?"

She was sure her face was brighter than her hair. "Oh, I don't know that you want—"

"Come on, I can take it."

She bit her lip, shaking her head to fight off laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. How'd she even gotten to this point anyway? After _this_ day, surviving Scarlet?

"'The Serial Killer.'"

He looked dismayed. " _'The Serial Killer'_!? What have I done to deserve _that_?" She doubled-over at his dumbfounded expression.

"That's the joke!" She gasped through her laughter. "You're just so _normal_ compared to the rest of the Board, Director. It's funny to think 'Oh, maybe the nicest one is actually the worst.' It's not anything people take seriously. Besides," she changed gears, "there are others."

"Like?"

"Like, _'_ The Sane One'." He seemed relieved by this, but she still felt nervous enough to rush through the next moniker.

"What was that?"

"The 'Cute One'," she said louder, face feeling so hot she was sure she was radiating. This revelation tickled him.

"Really now?" Reeve couldn't keep the grin off his face. She laughed.

"Don't get too cocky, sir, both of those are just in comparison to the _rest_ of the Board."

"Ouch," he clutched his heart in mock offense. Feeling emboldened, she continued.

"There's also, 'the Heart', and 'the One You Want to Buy You Dinner', and 'the Only One You Can Safely Take Home To Your Parents," she listed off the top of my head, giggling. The last one always tickled her. She didn't care how pink her ears looked now; the elated expression on his face was worth it.

"Well, this has been illuminating." He did his best to not appear self-satisfied, but in truth she rather liked that he did. His hazel eyes practically twinkled with delight. "I'll do my best to not let this go to my head."

"Oh please, sir. No you won't," she rolled her eyes, and they laughed. Feeling emboldened, she grabbed his hand again. Again, he didn't pull away. "Thank you, sir. For everything. You've certainly made me feel better."

"I don't know how. _I_ didn't do anything," he shook his head, guilty look returning. "And I'm going to make this up to you. I promise." He slowly rose to his feet, but he didn't let go of her hand. She rose with him, still clutching his kerchief in her other palm.

"That's not necessary. And please don't do anything rash with Scarlet. If she doesn't come after one of _us_ , it'll be one of our projects…" Her voice trailed off. She realized belatedly how close he was standing to her, hands still clasped together—it would be so easy to just tip her toes _up_ , lift her lips to his…

Reeve looked like he'd been struck by inspiration. "I wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

He didn't answer right away, instead muttering to himself, "I probably still have those files…"

"What files?"

He looked at her. "You're a _genius_."

"Oh?" She said, puzzled. "Well, I like to think that, but why do _you_ think so?" He smiled broadly at her.

"I know how to deal with Scarlet."

"Director! I _just_ said—"

"I know, I know." He made to cut her off. "But hear me out…"

* * *

Reeve departed President Shinra's office with a scarlet folder in hand. He spied her sitting next to the fern in the atrium, knee bouncing with nerves. When she saw him, her eyes asked the question she desperately wanted to know.

"We're on. Right now."

Determination set in her face, and she popped up and bounced in step behind him. They entered the elevator in tandem, heads high, alight with the rush of adrenaline.

The plan was in action—three days of careful planning between juggling primary work responsibilities. They were finally ready. But Reeve needed to make one stop first. He pressed the button to the 63rd floor.

"I thought we were on?" She questioned.

"We are.” He gave her a knowing look. “But we should probably be ready to the leave the building as soon as we're done. So grab your things."

She barely contained her amusement, and he felt giddy at the thought of what was to come. He handed her the scarlet folder as they returned to the elevator.

They descended.

As they approached B13, Reeve heard her inhale deeply. Then, her face went blank as slate. He’d noticed this technique before, to hide her true feelings. He'd have to ask her more about it, someday. She caught his stare and gave a slight smile.

"I feel much more confident going to see Scarlet this time around," she confided.

"Must be because we're together," he hoped it wasn't too forward of him to say, but she seemed to flush at the statement, and he chose to read that as a sign in his favor. His luck felt strong as the elevator reached their destination.

Together, they walked the hallway toward Scarlet's lab. As they approached the guard straightened, nodding curtly at Reeve, and motioned them inside.

 _Here we go_ , Reeve thought.

"Why are you interrupting?" Scarlet barked upon hearing their footsteps without looking toward them. Reeve stepped forward.

"Evening, Scarlet." Scarlet turned abruptly, face sour.

"What do _you_ want, Reeve?"

"We'll only take a minute of your time."

Reeve motioned and flawlessly she took his cue, walking forward with the folder in hand. Scarlet's interest piqued. "What's that?"

"A memo from the President. I'll cut to the chase. I pointed out some of your recent projects…haven't been going so well."

" _What_?" Scarlet sounded murderous.

"Just that, as the manager of Midgar, I've noticed an incredible amount of damage to property and loss of city resources due to your projects. An astonishing amount, really, once added up… and let's just say, I presented this information to the President. He agreed with my assessment that they were..." He paused, in part for dramatic effect, but also buy time. "Wasteful."

"What are you getting at?" Scarlet demanded, unaware his dutiful assistant was crossing to the cabinet against the wall, where piled were folders of Reeve's memos, tossed aside.

"It's all in the file." To further make his point he gestured to where his assistant now daintily laid the scarlet folder atop the chaos of other files in the pile, making it sit _just_ so, the ruby color brilliant against the stack of black. "He's signed it."

"I'm not going to bother opening your damn memo, Reeve," Scarlet snarled.

But they were already beating a hasty retreat as Reeve called without looking back, "Your projects have been cut. Enjoy your weekend, Scarlet." He waved.

They closed the door behind them as they heard a loud wail, alarming the guard standing outside. Rushing to the elevator, they climbed in with frantic energy. As soon as the doors closed, they laughed and high-fived, flush with victory.

"Oh," she seemed breathless, " _that_ makes everything worth it."

"It's great, isn't it?" He bounced with excitement himself. "It's the President's orders. She can't threaten _me_ with violence." He could already see it now. Scarlet would whip herself into a frenzy, but have no avenue to wreak any real vengeance. Resentment and scorn would fester, and he'd be punished and humiliated at the next board meeting.

But _she_ would be spared Scarlet's further wrath. And that alone made it worth his while. He'd lobbed a warning, made clear he wouldn't lay down and take her abuse, least of all if she dared hurt _his_ staff. Hurt _her_.

"It's a great plan, sir." She said. "I’m so glad the President has a soft spot for you. And this probably will save us on some huge repair costs, down the road. I can't believe how often they destroy property—going through all those reports were really something." She reflected a moment. "I probably should have been more worried when I was in that room…Who knows when one of those tanks are going to explode in Scarlet's face."

"Well, you don't need to worry about it, because I'm never asking you to do that again." He paused. "Though I guess now we _both_ have our own Succubus story."

She laughed. "And I can't _wait_ for the staff to hear about this one! We should celebrate."

Reeve turned to her, flushed with the confidence of his victory. "How about I buy you dinner? I hear I do have a nickname to uphold, after all."

She looked shocked, yet pleased. "I’d very much like that." They were nearly to the lobby now. "Oh, by the way," she started fishing in her pocket. "I have these—all cleaned." She pulled out two brightly floral kerchiefs. Reeve waved her off.

"Keep them.” She protested. “Seriously, I have an entire drawer,” he urged.

"If you insist." She thumbed over the fuchsia pattern, smiling. "They _are_ lovely." He swelled with pride.

"I'll make sure to tell Ma you like them." The elevator halted and chimed open. Confident and satisfied, they strolled through the lobby and out into the crisp evening.

"So," she perked, grinning at him. "Where are you taking me?"

Reeve felt a pleasant jolt in his stomach from the way she looked at him. "Wherever you want." Then he frowned.

"What?" She asked.

"I wish I had planned ahead better. Ma always says I need to bring a gift before dinner."

She laughed, and sidled closer to him, expression playful. "Well, you know, I just so happen to have started a new handkerchief collection..."

Reeve laughed along, fishing from his pocket a lilac-colored kerchief with white lilies. "What do you know." He presented it to her with a flourish. "Looks like I happen to have something after all."

She brought it to her heart, face bright and happy. "Perfect."

He took her hand and together they walked, forgetting all about the raging devil beneath the bowels of the city, whose nest they’d kicked.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the most technically challenging pieces I've written, so please feel free to leave concrit! I am enjoying using this muse to help my writing grow.


End file.
